


Let's talk about nothing...

by catastrophage



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anger, Choking, Cop!Heahmund, Criminal!Ivar, Dysfunctional Relationship, Fighting, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Modern AU, Sex solves everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 10:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20928806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catastrophage/pseuds/catastrophage
Summary: A failed mission leads to a violent fight. Heahmund and Ivar both almost lose themselves in their pride, not ready for healthy communication - when really they just want to be with each other.





	Let's talk about nothing...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NotWhoIAppearToBe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotWhoIAppearToBe/gifts).

> Inspired by NotWhoIAppearToBe's and my Heahvar writings and [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0wo8aNVM9TI). Thank you for everything.  
This was also written as a challenge for Kinktober Day 05 - _Choking._

**Let's talk about nothing...**

Like fire and ice. They're cracking, losing their punch, melting away, dying down, and ultimately they might kill each other. It's no longer a question who wins, but much rather who survives this. 

"How can I ever trust you again?"  
Ivar slides his gun onto the table, with enough force to send it falling down onto a chair at the other side. Heahmund has started pacing in the kitchen. He could try to argue - it didn't go as planned. Yes he called his colleagues. The plan was to bust a deal and arrest some drug lords. Some _other_ drug lords. Just the thought that he covers one up, practically _lives_ with one, makes Heahmund frown. How low could he go?  
But to argue, to apologize, or to defend his plans, means to put Ivar in a position of power. He doesn't owe him an explanation. He's a cop. Double-dealing _and lovestruck_, but still a cop.

On the other hand he's at Ivar's mercy. If he betrays him, Ivar might kill him. Or worse... testify his crimes. Have him lose his position, his job and his dignity. "Ask that yourself," Heahmund mumbles and he half hopes Ivar didn't hear it. But of course he did. He slams his flat hand onto the table.

"What now?" Heahmund asks, mentally slapping himself for even speaking to the lunatic. "You can't trust me anymore? So you can't keep me around, but you can't let me go either, for all the things I know."

Ivar snorts. "Are you asking me to kill you, _cop_?"  
He walks up closer and stands behind him. Ivar's strong hands find their way around Heahmund's throat. He doesn't even care to be gentle, he tries to demonstrate that if he wanted, he could.  
"You're nothing more than a second class whore to me. I won't shed a tear when you're gone."

Heahmund clenches his teeth. Ivar knows how to strike low down. What should he answer to _that_?  
_It's all lies_. He knows it's just lies. He keeps his breath calm and flat - and waits. Just as expected, nothing happens. Ivar doesn't want to kill him after all. 

He moves all of a sudden - Ivar can just feel an elbow in his guts, then he loses his grip. Heahmund finds a hold at his pants, his arm aligns to Ivar's muscles and before he can blink, Ivar finds himself stumbling backwards towards the wall.  
It's time to turn the tables.

Now it's Heahmund holding Ivar in a choke, and he's rougher with him, pushing him against the wall backwards. He knows how to use his body to keep Ivar out of balance, or at the very least not strong enough to fight him. He has the advantage of year long training for situations like this. Whenever Ivar tries to get a hold of him, he just pushes his arms away. Then he leans in and kisses him.

Ivar whimpers. Heahmund's thumbs press a delicate spot above his larynx. The kiss carries no love, no kindness, it hurts. It's just power and control. Heahmund doesn't need to say anything. Ivar knows he's doing onto him like he had - demonstrating he could take him whenever. Degrading Ivar to little more than a whore.

When Heahmund finally lets go of him, Ivar remains leaning against the wall and rubs his throat with his knuckles. He shoots the older some glares, but he's had his fight. They're even.  
Heahmund sits down on the couch, heaves a sigh and kicks off his shoes. What a day.

"What was that?" Ivar follows him to the couch and drops down next to him. His eyes throw him daggers, but his closeness speaks another language. _Make it better. Love me._  
"I'm not your whore, Ivar. If I'm your partner that's already more than I should grant you. I came to arrest you. I stay because I like you."  
_Just like?_ Again Heahmund mentally slaps himself. He loves Ivar. He should stop denying it, he doesn't do himself a favor by not calling it what it is. _Affection. Addiction. Infatuation._ But he keeps a calm facade. "You're as much at my mercy as I'm at yours."

"You fucked up," Ivar hisses. "It's sheer luck we got out of it."  
Heahmund rolls his eyes. He still doesn't feel like arguing. He knows Ivar was as much at fault as him. But in this mood he shouldn't criticize him. His pride keeps him from agreeing and apologizing. So to avoid further discussing the topic, he reaches for the remote control. Turn on the TV, have some other noise than Ivar's rage.  
Eventually he glances to the side. Ivar is seemingly brooding. He's tense, unhappy somehow. And then their eyes meet. Behind the accusations, Heahmund can read him. It's deep in his eyes. _Love me. Show me you love me._

If he's all honest with himself, it could as well be wishful thinking. Heahmund can hear those words in his own voice, repeating in his head. Frustrated, he switches the TV off again and stands up.  
Ivar immediately stands as well. "Why are you leaving?"

What should he answer? Will it do to just claim he's tired and wants to go sleep?  
Before Heahmund can find the right words to say, Ivar tackles him back down on the couch and kisses him. The kiss is sweeter than the previous one. _It carries the fear of not being loved._  
_No,_ Heahmund corrects himself. _Maybe it's me fearing not to be loved._

They break the kiss and stare at each other. Ivar with glares that could be interpreted as anger. Heahmund with a good deal of spite. Moments pass, and both don't know what to say. Ivar opens his mouth - twice - but he closes it again, reconsidering the words he almost spits out against Heahmund.  
_At least don't hate me._

They kiss again, and Heahmund can feel Ivar fumbling with his belt. He breaks the kiss, wanting to ask him _what the fuck he's doing there_, but the words that leave his mouth are others. "Are we good again?"  
And as if he's reading his thoughts, Ivar asks the same question at the same time. They both frown, then a smile in the corner of his lips threatens to ruin Heahmund's cold facade.  
_Nothing is good,_ his mind screams. But Ivar has found other places of him. His question, his eyes that stop glaring and start just glancing at him hopefully, they stir his heart. His pretty face, his good smell make him desire the younger. And Ivar's hand...  
"You tell me," Heahmund presses through his teeth, trying not to release any weak, soft sounds.

Ivar reaches up one hand, and keeps the other between them. His fingers close around Heahmund's neck at the same time as they close around his cock. Gently, just strong enough that it doesn't feel awkward. "Maybe," Ivar breathes.  
_This won't do._

Heahmund knows he doesn't have to use force this time. He just raises a hand to push Ivar's away from his throat. "No more maybes," he declares in his rough voice. He sits up to shift their positions. Soon it's Ivar leaning against the cushions of the couch, Heahmund above him.  
"_We_ fucked up today," Ivar blurts out, not sure what to say. It's as much of an admission as he will make. Heahmund smiles briefly. "What should _we_ do about it?"

Ivar parts his lips, not saying a word. He glances down to Heahmund's hands opening and pulling down both their pants. Then back up into Heahmund's eyes. And finally he knows what to say, what to do. "Shut up and fuck me."  
Another brief smile, and it widens when Heahmund sees the relief in Ivar's eyes. He aligns their cocks with one hand, allowing Ivar to feel him hard against him. With the other he reaches up and does what Ivar had done, he holds him in a choke, but just softly. His thumb rests against Ivar's jaw, not hurting his larynx again. "Moan for me."

And that he does. Forgotten is the failed mission, the lost trust, their fight - at least for this moment.


End file.
